


In at the deep end

by AwatereJones



Category: Torchwood
Genre: Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 21,566
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21888826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AwatereJones/pseuds/AwatereJones
Summary: OK,another xmas treat for you. Ianto has gone on xmas holiday somewhere hot to avoid the snow. Only problem is ... Captain Harkness from the Cardiff office seems to have the same idea. what the hell? Also ... what are the chances that Ianto rented the place RIGHT NEXT TO HIM! Alt Verse where Torchwoosd is MI7. Yes... OK. Smutt somewhere OK? Love my crumbly cake xxx
Comments: 22
Kudos: 28





	1. Chapter 1

Ianto Jones joined the end of the queue at the only service station in the quiet little beachside town of The Peninsular. He folded his arms and settled in for a long wait; it was Christmas Eve and it appeared everyone was stocking up on their last minute snacks before the shops shut for Christmas Day. Glancing down, he smiled as a pair of large, tanned, sandy, _and_ bare feet in front caught his attention. He straightened and lifted his eyes a fraction, enjoying the sight of tightly muscled calves above those bare feet. Tilting his chin higher, his leisurely perusal continued up tanned skin with seemingly no body hair, up to firm thighs that disappeared into a pair of board shorts moulding one of the most perfect male butts he had ever seen.

Down south, his bits that had been dormant for _way_ too long gave a little jiggle.

" _Always check out the size of their feet, boys and girls. Big feet, big—"_

" _Ceryse!" The giggles that had gone around the office were in contrast to the corporate black suits and classy chignons of the executive assistants on the tenth floor of the Torchwood building at Canary Warf. MI7 to those inducted … WE DO NOT EXIST. Between the bouts of frantic activity that happened on the Archive floor twenty four hours a day, Ianto spent most of his work day shaking his head at Ceryse's antics and advice. Ceryse always managed to come up with a dry comment to break the tense atmosphere of espionage …er…. Archiving everyone else's interesting lives in the field. The one about checking out the size of a guy's feet before accepting a date had them howling with laughter. Until the boss had lifted her head and frowned through the glass wall of her huge office. Then the handsome and startlingly cheeky Captain Harkness from the Cardiff division had leaned out and winked. GOD!_

Now Ianto stared down at the feet of the guy in front of him. Not that he'd be interested in Ianto, but this guy had _big_ feet. He let out a soft sigh; the pretty young things chattering away in front of the man were keeping his attention to the front of the queue.

Ianto hadn't been on a date for over a year, so he hadn't had a chance to put Ceryse's test into practice. _And_ the quivers below were few and far between these days, so that little tremble low in his dick had put a happy smile on his face.

Memories were nice.

Ianto needed no one; he was here at the beach to have a total break. A flight out of the dreary rain of London to the sunny Canary Islands. Five days of bliss, alone, no work and no one to bother him. Mr Big Feet took a step forward as the queue moved and Ianto shuffled along closer to the counter. His gaze lingered on that tight butt, clad in snug fitting board shorts, before he lifted his eyes to feast on a golden tanned back. No harm in looking.

 _Oh, my._ Broad shoulders lightly dappled with freckles with a sprinkling of sand stuck to the smooth skin. Small grains were embedded in the sexy hollow at the top of his shoulder. Ianto literally had to curl his fingers to stop himself from reaching up and brushing it away. Maybe the surf god wouldn't be impressed if a tired and stressed looking man with dark circles beneath his eyes ran his fingers over that glorious back. To distract himself, he turned away and looked out at the cars, trying to pick which one was his.

 _Of course._ A beat up 1970s Kombi van with two surfboards secured to the roof racks was at the front of the line. Ianto nodded to himself; that would be the surfer boy's car. Another step forward in the queue and he turned his gaze back to him.

His dark brown hair was fluffed yet also flipped perfectly positioned as if he has stepped from a make-up chair not the surf. Even his neck was strong and tanned.

Ianto fanned himself as his wicked imagination kicked into overdrive, and tilted his face up toward the frigid air blowing from the vents in the high ceiling. Even though artificial, the air was blessedly cool. A welcome relief after the strong smell of diesel that had pervaded the hot petrol bay as he'd filled his car. It was just on dark, but Ianto was sure the mercury was still registering over thirty degrees outside.

And his internal temperature was sizzling as the erotic fantasy filled his mind. What a sad life he must lead to be fantasising in a service station! This short holiday was _way_ overdue.

It had been a long, long drive. The sooner he found the beach cottage and fell into bed the better. Exhaling with a tired sigh, he shuffled forward another step as the queue moved fractionally.

"No, the party's at the surf club _tonight_."

Ianto tilted his head to the side, looking past Mr Surfer Boy's broad shoulders. The cashier behind the high counter chatted to the customer at the head of the queue. Mary—Ianto could just see her name tag— reached for the milk that the customer had placed on the counter. The register beeped as she scanned the plastic container.

"Tonight? I thought the party at the surf club was on New Year's Eve?" The pretty young girl in a red sarong pushed her hair back from her face as she lifted the rest of her groceries onto the counter. Her voice rose shrilly.

Mary chewed gum as she shook her head; no rush here. The dozen or so customers in the queue ahead of Ianto almost let out a collective sigh as they jiggled their feet, tapped their hands and looked at their watches. Even the surf god's shoulders tensed a little, sending another pleasant little ripple through Ianto's dick.

Country service. But Ianto liked it; people-watching was fun, even if he was tired. In London, you were lucky to get a hello at any store. Now Mary, the slow-moving cashier, leaned on one elbow and imparted the correct information about this party to anyone who was interested. "No, it's tonight. Starts in a couple of hours."

"Really?"The girl in the red sarong leaned forward. "Are you sure?'

"Yes, it's at the surf club _tonight_. The New Year's Eve party is at the pub on the river."

"Well, I'm not missing either of them. Have you seen the talent in town this week?" Ianto resisted a nod as the 'talent' in front of him stretched to his toes and the muscles in his calves flexed.

"All the local surfers are home for Christmas and the party will be hot!" The young girl pushed her hair back from her face as she turned apologetically to the person in the queue behind her. "Sorry, just have to grab some party supplies. Won't take a minute." She flicked a glance back to the cashier and her mouth split into a grin. "Just as well I've already been to the bottle shop."

"Got your priorities right there, love." Mary, the cashier's, voice held a tinge of sarcasm.

Ianto watched as the girl headed for the fridges lining the back wall. The next customer in line stepped up to the other register but Mary waved him away.

"Sorry, love. The other cashier is on a tea break. You'll have to wait." She flicked open a magazine on the counter and began to read, ignoring the cross mutterings of the waiting customers.

Ianto closed his mouth as another yawn threatened. What was one more delay? His day had been fraught with them since he'd hit that first red traffic light after getting into the country this morning. Anyone would think he was having a bad luck day. Black cats, ladders, broken mirrors, shoes on tables—his Mama had been a sucker for superstitions and Ianto knew them all. He swallowed as he pushed that thought away; his grief was on hold until he was ready to deal with it.

The entire trip from the airport had been a nightmare from start to finish. Heavy traffic had choked the highway as what had seemed like the entire population of the city, headed for the beaches for the annual break between Christmas Eve and the New Year. Mama had always told him not to leave London on Christmas Eve but Ianto had been so keen to get away from the city after the funeral, he'd decided to put up with the traffic. Besides. London at Christmas? How could he even explain the reasons why it was a bad idea, his Torchwood clearance showing him the Doctor and Christmas was always a bad combo. The flight had been quiet, the rental car sweet. But it had turned into a five hour trip, instead of the three e it should have taken. Despite the six lane freeway, a broken down truck added time to his trip. Finally, after crawling through slow bumper to bumper traffic, he'd called into a small town just south of his destination to stock up on groceries for his eight day break. Once he got to the beach cottage he had no intention of getting back in his car until he left after the New Year.

Keen to travel the last short leg of the trip, he'd hurried out to his small sedan with his few grocery bags, and groaned. An old, battered truck had his car parked in. He sat on the grass verge in the hot sun, fuming for half an hour until an elderly couple pushed their laden trolley across the car park. The words that he'd had ready to blast the car's owner died away as he watched the old man hold his wife's hand and place her carefully in the front seat, before he slowly unpacked the trolley into the back of the truck. Ianto couldn't help himself. He pushed himself to his feet and helped him unload.

"Thank you, son." He went around to the front of the car and came back with a small parcel and pressed it into his hands. "Merry Christmas. One of Ethel's plum puddings for you."

Tears welled into his eyes and he ran the back of his hand over his face; emotion had clogged his throat for the whole trip but he wasn't going to give in. "Merry Christmas to you and your wife too."

He drove away sedately; still oblivious that he had blocked in Ianto's car. With a sigh, Ianto had pulled out and hit the highway again.

Now at his destination and needing a few last things at the local dive…ah…store he stood smothering a yawn with the back of his hand, he rocked on his feet as he waited and looked over to the brightly coloured products on the shelves along the wall.

Everything to tempt the sweet tooth he tried his best not to indulge.

 _Bad move._ On the back seat of his car were three bags filled with salad makings, and fruit. Ceryse and Elise, the perpetual dieters at work had taught him good habits; there was no Christmas cheer for him apart from Ethel's plum pudding. Ianto smiled as he stepped away from the queue. he was at the rear, so if he was quick he wouldn't lose his place.

Picking up a basket he headed to the fridge and opened the door. A minute later his basket was filled with a carton of custard to go with the plum pudding, five small bottles of strawberry-flavoured milk—full cream, _so there, skinny minnies at work_ —two family size chocolate bars and two trashy magazines. Ianto stepped between the shelves, and threw in two bags of potato chips for good measure on his way back to the queue. No one had joined it and he got to stand behind the surf god again. The girl in the sarong was still loading her basket. Not in a hurry, that one _._ It was Christmas; Ianto had to dig deep to find some Christmas spirit. Finally, the girl came back to the counter, paid for her party goodies and the queue began to move. There were now only seven customers ahead of Ianto and he covered another yawn with one hand.

A second cashier appeared behind the counter and the queue moved forward quickly. Ianto reached down to pick up his basket as surfer boy reached the head of the queue and paid for his fuel. Bending down, he reached for his basket as he turned to pass him. Ianto glanced his way as he straightened. Did the face match the perfect body?

 _Oh. My. God_.

Ianto froze and forced his open mouth to close. If you could freeze when prickles of heat scorched your skin.

"Mister Jones." His boss' rival Captain Harkness stopped walking and flashed a smile at him. Perfect white teeth, the same sexy grin that he'd admired every day for the past six months. he'd tried to ignore him every time he visited to needle the Queen Bitch in her glass tower for a few days each week but now, the impeccable business suit had been replaced with a bare chest and those low slung board shorts, and the fantasy of the last ten minutes left him gasping for composure. His mouth dried as he stared at the washboard abs and that muscled V that disappeared into his shorts below his navel. The muscles on his front were as ripped as the rest of him. Who could ever have known what that WWII get-up hid?

"Captain Harkness," he finally managed to croak out.

"Feeling peckish, are you, Mister Jones?"

"What?" Ianto lifted his eyes from the bare stomach to meet a pair of eyes crinkled with laughter. _Sprung. How bloody embarrassing._ His grin widened as he pointed to Ianto's plastic basket.

Thank God. He was talking about the food _._ Ianto swallowed and forced the huskiness from his voice. "Ah yes, um…er…um…some holiday supplies."

He stuttered and stumbled over his words like a teenage girl with a crush. Thank God, he hadn't noticed Ianto when he'd been salivating over him in the queue. There was no way he could have sustained a conversation with him for any length of time with him half-naked in front of him; he would have died of embarrassment. It was bad enough to be caught out in a pair of old jeans, and a tight fitting T-shirt. At least he was on his way out and he didn't have to make social conversation.

"See you back at the office next week. Have a good Christmas." His voice was as deep and sexy as ever and Ianto nodded mutely.

He really was just too gorgeous; for six months he'd managed to hide how he'd dreamed about Jack Harkness. And that was when he was in that Great Coat. Now he'd morphed into a tanned surfing god, Ianto was a goner. How the hell he'd ever sit across the meeting table to take notes of the spitting matches without thinking of that bare chest when he went back to work…Little warm tingles were having a fun time down in the now ex-dormant zone.

Ianto stared after Jack as he opened the door of the silver Audi TT Roadster that was parked behind the Kombi van. Wrong again.

"Stop perving and hurry up, love. You're holding up the queue." Mary's drawl was amused as her gaze followed Ianto's. "Bit of a looker, is our Jax, isn't he?"

Ianto closed his mouth and turned to the waiting cashier.

 _Our_ Jax?


	2. never the twain

Jack turned his sleek sports sedan onto the sandy road that skirted the beach. He deliberately looked away from the first cottage and turned his attention towards the beach. Purple shadows cast by the setting sun hovered on the glassy sea. The last rays caught the slow moving swell as it pushed to shore, breaking as a bridal veil of foam on the wet sand. Even though the waves were small, there was a nice right-hand break on the point, just catching the last glimmers of light from the sun as it sank below the Great Dividing Range to the west of The Peninsular, the small town where he'd learned to surf. _Should be great for a surf in the morning._

But surfing tomorrow wasn't at the forefront of his thoughts. The tight jeans and the figure-hugging tank top were very different to the attire of Mister Jones of the corporate suits and polished shoes. If it hadn't been for those piercingly stormy eyes, Jack probably wouldn't even have recognised the man behind him as Yvonne's executive assistant. The lush image imprinted on his mind since Ianto Jones had gaped up at him in the service station wouldn't go away.

The same man who had caught his eye the first day he had arrived. There'd been muttered comments about special treatment when he'd been promoted to her executive assistant, but it hadn't taken much to dispel the gossip. Clearly Yvonne recognised talent and hard work; good looks were a bonus. This man was efficient to a fault, Yvonne as smug as ever. Made the now weekly pilgrimage to London to piss on her lamppost more interesting to say the least.

He wondered idly where Ianto was heading and then focused on the surf. He did wonder what Ianto Jones had been up to lately. Usually one to stay late at his desk, in the last month he'd been leaving as soon as work ceased for the day, and then he'd had a few days off last week. Jack had missed him and asked around.

Personal time, he'd been told with no further explanation. he was Yvonne's crew, so it was none of his business.

Jack shrugged as he turned to the ocean. He was here for a break.

If the swell stayed small, he'd get his knee board out and wax it ready for the morning. Didn't matter that it would be Christmas Day; no family left in town.

_Nice arse, though._

It had probably been stupid to come up here in his rare time off from work, but it was as good a time as any to try to put his memories to rest. Long overdue.

_And cute blush too._

He'd hit the sack as soon as he'd waxed his board. Pleasant tiredness tugged at his muscles; he'd been in the surf all day on his large board. He'd hit the surf early again tomorrow; his knee board should still be in the small wooden shed attached to the old building at the back of the cottage.

The familiar and long-loved smell of salt and seaweed met Jack as he climbed out of the Audi. He grabbed the carton of beer he'd picked up at the pub from the back of the car, and walked through the long grass to the old cottage. He'd have to pull out Pa's old mower while he was staying here. He stood on the front steps and looked back down the road. It had been a long time since he and Grey had walked together down that road on their way to high school… and to the surf.

Teenagers without a worry in the world.

And it had been almost as long since he'd last been down to the other cottage: his grandparents' cottage. Not since Gray's funeral. Jack pushed open the door and the fresh smell of the ocean was replaced by the musty smell of an old house that had been locked up for a long time. _Pretty eyes too._

He grinned again as stormy eyes fixed on his stomach flashed into his head. He'd never noticed that cute tiny scar just to the left of an eyebrow …. That pert little button nose pulling his attention. Maybe he'd break his own rule and ask Ianto Jones out for dinner once they got back to work.

.

.

.

.

Ianto threw his junk food purchases onto the back seat next to the healthy groceries. Shaking his head he peered up the road but the silver Audi was out of sight.

 _Who would ever a thunk it,_ as Ceryse would say with a giggle. Fancy Mr WWII being up here on the north coast. Ceryse had soon branded the new boss with his nickname, when it became quite clear he was not up for socializing… just flirting. Oldctyle clothing and a 'Jack-the-lad' attitude to match his name. It was only last week that they had been speculating about where he'd spend Christmas. Ianto had been quiet and his colleagues had been sympathetic to him losing his mama.

London, Paris, skiing at Aspen had all been mooted for the boss. Slumming it north of the Peninsular hadn't rated a mention. Ianto wondered how far north he was going; probably heading for trendy Boeshane Bay. Anyway it would be fun to recount his experience of checking him out in the service station; the team would get a laugh out of that. He hadn't contributed much to the usual hilarity in the lunch room these last few months. Maybe he wouldn't tell them just how delectable he looked in his board shorts. He'd file that little picture away for the meetings where Mr WWII sat business-like in his Great Coat, barely looking at him while focusing on Yvonne's mouth twitch. Anyway, that was work; this week was for much needed relaxation and regaining his emotional strength after nursing Mama in her final days.

Ianto turned on the GPS as he drove back onto the main road and headed for the beach. Several wrong turns and much swearing later, he finally turned onto the sandy road that led to the address on the receipt shoved into his bag. The GPS had kept telling him to turn right—into the ocean.

The sun had set and darkness was falling quickly. he hoped the key to the rental was where it was supposed to be; the guy on the phone had been vague and hard to understand with his soft muffled voice. he frowned as a long, deserted road loomed ahead of him. Bush encroached on both sides and there was no sign of any houses. He stopped and pulled the receipt out: yep, that was it—Enigma Road. Ianto knew he was finally on the right road; he'd seen the sign when he had ignored the robotic voice of the navigation system, followed his instincts, and turned off the esplanade.

He frowned; no luxury cottage fitting the description of Beachside Vista anywhere to be seen. He'd checked out the holiday rental online when he'd received an email advertising a vacancy over the holiday break; the photographs had displayed the interior of a spacious cottage decorated in a retro style across from the beach. Not that he really needed spacious for the few days he'd be here. His car moved slowly along the narrow road and the beachside oaks formed a dark canopy above him, and he stared ahead trying to see in the murky light.

The sandy road narrowed even more, and the frequent potholes got deeper. Ianto shivered as a feeling of gloom pervaded the early evening. Suddenly a light appeared ahead of him to the left and he almost overshot the driveway. he hit the brakes and the car pulled to a stop. An old wooden sign hung crookedly from a post in the long grass at the side of the narrow road proclaiming he had arrived at Beachside Vista.

"Oh, no." A groan escaped his lips.

An old weatherboard cottage loomed out of the darkness as he stepped from the car. He squinted in the dim light. The paint was peeling and loose guttering hung in a jagged, rusty spiral, scraping noisily against the side of the house. The wind had picked up and another shiver ran down his back as it keened eerily through the trees, the breaking ocean providing a mournful background.

All it needed was a storm to make it totally spooky.

 _Crack!_ A clap of booming thunder instantly followed the flash of lightning that lit the sky almost as though he had summoned it and Ianto glanced around nervously.

Okay, he'd wanted privacy but maybe not quite _this_ much isolation. The knee length grass brushed against his legs and he turned back to the car for the small torch he kept in the glove box. Small creatures rustled in the long grass and he stepped quickly back to the side of the road. He flicked the torch on and shone the light along the side of the old building. Sure enough, there was a small box at the side of the porch where he'd been told to find the key. Lifting the lid, he pulled out an envelope and flashed the torch on the spidery writing.

' _Jones. Five nights.'_ he shook the envelope and a large key slipped into his hand. Thank goodness, it was the right Beachside Vista, but it was _nothing_ like he'd expected.

No matter; it was close to the beach and that's where he'd be spending most of his time. Ianto shrugged and climbed the stairs. The door opened slowly with an ominous creak.

Talk about cinematic setting. What was it going to be like inside?

Two minutes later—because that's all it took to investigate every nook and cranny of the _small_ cottage—Ianto returned to the car for his backpack and food supplies. He quickly stowed his groceries in the ancient, rusted fridge on the back porch along with the chocolate and the two bottles of wine he'd brought from his fridge at home. The plum pudding took pride of place in the centre of the old red laminated kitchen table and the red and green ribbon around it gave a small, festive air to the room.

The fridge was on the porch because there was no room in the tiny kitchen for much more than the table and two old mismatched chairs.

 _Luxury?_ Huh! He could cope with … but wasn't so sure about the outside shower and toilet located at the far end of the back porch.

Ianto reached for the salad bag and closed the fridge. The bag crinkled in his hand as he looked down at the unappetizing green leaves. Changing his mind, he pulled open the door again, put the salad back and pulled out a chocolate bar and a bottle of strawberry milk.

It was Christmas Eve!

That would be his celebratory dinner, and then he'd brave a quick shower outside and have an early night. Look on the bright side; the cottage _was_ cutesy in a retro way, although he wondered how secure the back wall of the kitchen was. It was made entirely of latticework and wouldn't keep anything out.

Wind, bugs or intruders. And it was swaying in the wind with an ominous creak.

With a sigh and a swig of strawberry milk, Ianto searched out a clean towel from the camphor-smelling linen cupboard beside the back door and headed for the shower.

.

.

.

Jack pulled the cap on a bottle of beer and held the cool glass against his forehead. The air was muggy and by the look of the flashing sky to the west there was a decent night storm brewing. He took a swig of the beer, put it on the bench and picked up his keys. He'd clear out the carport and get the Audi under shelter as best he could. There was hail in that sky.

His eyes narrowed as he stepped outside. There was a light on in Gray's cottage down the road. There shouldn't be; no one had lived in their grandparents' place since Gray had died. Aunty Vi had talked about letting it as a holiday rental but Jack had convinced her not to. It hadn't taken much talking; as well as the physical problems with the place, the whole family knew the real reason it couldn't be let out.

_Not that we ever talk about it._

With a sigh, he shoved his hands in his pockets and hurried down the steps. The last thing he wanted to do was go to the cottage but he should make sure squatters hadn't moved in. All he wanted was peace and quiet for this break; he didn't want to have to deal with any problems.

Or any other person for that matter. He was here to surf and chill and forget about the cutthroat business world he'd left behind in Britain.


	3. peek-a-boo?

Taking a shower in the tiny cubicle had been fraught with problems. Ianto had to manoeuvre an old surfboard out of the small shower recess and brush down the sticky cobwebs that hung from the showerhead to the taps on the wall. No sign of spiders but they could be lurking in the dark. At least the room looked clean but the smell of mouldy concrete pervaded the dimly lit space. He reached up to open the small Louvre window at the top of the shower and squealed as a Daddy Long Legs spider scurried across his hand. He dropped his hand and opted to keep the window half shut rather than brave the spider and any family he might have.

Slipping his jeans and T-shirt off, he looked around for somewhere to hang his clothes…and his towel. Not a hook or a bench to be seen. Opening the door a crack, he shoved them through the door and placed them on the floor of the veranda before turning on the taps and waiting. he jumped as another flash of lightning lit the night sky, and a far off rumble of thunder reverberated along the veranda.

A clanking and groaning preceded the burst of steaming hot water that sprayed him from above. Ianto jumped back and it took a bit of fiddling to adjust the heat to a comfortable level, but finally he tipped his head back, and closed his eyes, letting the warm water ease his tension.

He was here; the inside of the cottage was clean, the bed was soft and the beach was a stone's throw across the road. He had food and books to read and a pair of togs. What more could he need? The outside bathroom would add to his adventure. He opened his eyes and reached for the shampoo bottle on the floor and tipped it into his hand, lathering his hair into sweet-smelling suds as a picture of dark flicked hair came to mind.

What were the chances of running into his boss' rival in a small town so far from home? He was the last person he would ever have expected to see in a pair of board shorts. Ianto narrowed his eyes as he remembered the sand on the back of his legs. Maybe he wasn't travelling; maybe he was staying in this beachside village although he doubted if there were any flash condos in this town.

Smooth golden skin filled his thoughts as he massaged his hair and imagined massaging those delectable muscles.

_Stop it._

No matter how attracted he was to Captain Jack Harkness, that attraction would be firmly put in its place when he went back to the office. Two work relationships had already gone pear-shaped and Ianto had sworn off them for life. Lisa Hallet had used him to get a promotion at the Agency and then suggested to the higher-ups that he move on when she'd been promoted above him. Luckily, the job of PA in Archives had paid more than the field work and given him many more opportunities in the two years he'd been there. Thanks for the opportunity, _Lisa._

Ianto closed his eyes as he rinsed the suds from his hair. Dai Langston had been worse; there was the wife he'd neglected to mention. Luckily Ianto had found out about her just in time.

So the new policy he stuck to rigidly: work and sex did not mix.

Trouble was, working so hard, and looking after Mama left no time for meeting someone anywhere else. So celibacy had been the order of his life for a long year.

_Creak._

Ianto's eyes flew open and the sound of slow footsteps reached him. Quickly rinsing the last of the shampoo from his hair, he switched off the taps and listened. With his heart thudding madly, he opened the door a crack, bent down and reached out for the towel. His hand met smooth, worn floorboards and he stretched his arm out further and patted around the floor. There was no towel beneath his roving fingertips. _Shit._ Or clothes. Pulling the door closed quietly, he listened as the front steps creaked.

 _Great._ As he stood there wondering what the hell to do, someone pounded on the back door along the porch. He held his breath; if he was quiet maybe they'd go away. For goodness sake, he was stark bollocky naked. He slowly turned the lock on the inside of the shower door and the resulting snick was like a gunshot going off.

So much for trying to keep quiet.

"Hello? Who's there? Where are you?"

"Oh shit." he'd know that voice anywhere. Ianto rolled his eyes as the deep and sexy voice of Mr WWII drifted through the Louvre window.

"Me."

"Who?" His voice was terse now, more like the impatient tones as he queried a report at the office.

"Er…I'm in here," he called out.

The footsteps came closer. Ianto leaned against the door and stifled a groan. _Of all the rotten luck._

"Where's here and who's me?" The wind was swirling through the gap above the door now.

"In the shower." he realised he would have no idea where the shower was. "At the end of the veranda. And it's me, Ianto Jones."

Silence.

 _What the hell is the Captain doing here anyway?_ He stood there shivering as cold rivulets of water dripped down from his wet hair to his neck and body. Taking a deep breath, he tried to compose himself. _Blasted cold._

Ianto had no intention of stepping out of this shower until he had a towel around him and his clothes back from wherever they were.

"Ianto?"

"Yes, it's me."

"What the hell are you doing in there?" The sexy voice had taken on a dangerous edge. It appeared he was just as unimpressed to find him here, as he was to hear him outside the shower. "I'm taking a shower."

"Why are you here? Did you follow me?"

"Why the hell would I do that?"

If he wanted to play nasty, Ianto could be cranky too. he wasn't at work and he didn't have to put up with his gruff manner like he did most days at work.

Even if he looked sexy when he smiled.

But he was at a disadvantage.

At least he had clothes on. Well, some clothes anyway. His dick twitched as that golden skin flashed across his mind again.

"Well, what _are_ you doing here?'

"I told you. I _was_ taking a shower." Ianto's voice was as cool as his skin which was now covered with goose bumps. Strange, because the evening was hot and muggy. A cool breeze rushed though the shower and the back of Ianto's neck prickled. A chuckle sounded from the other side of the shower door.

"What's so funny?" Indignation filled him at the thought of Jack Harkness standing outside laughing at his predicament.

 _Wait a minute._ His eyes narrowed. The only way he would know of his predicament would be if he'd moved his clothes and towel himself.

Another voice came from the other end of the veranda and Ianto strained to hear. There was someone with him. A shiver of fear snaked up his spine.

Don't be stupid, it's only him—the storm was making him skittish.

"Jack? Look I need some help here." But all he heard was that same quiet chuckle a little closer this time.

"Jack!" His voice was shrill as he pushed away the fear that was settling in his chest. There was nothing to be afraid of. This was Jack Harkness, a well respected business man… and his 'other' boss. He sat and spoke to him on the phone while archiving his shit every day. Okay, so he didn't know much about him—never a personal conversation—but his quietly spoken demeanour and his sexy smile told him he was a decent guy.

Although he was cold and distant, he was always polite, never lost his temper and had never seemed the sort to play a practical joke. _Like taking my clothes._ Another shiver ran down his back and he leaned against the shower wall.

"If you're here, go away. Okay?" Jack's whisper was quiet and the floorboards on the veranda creaked again.

 _If_ you're here? Who else was there?

Ianto looked around the small shower cubicle for something to cover up with but there was nothing there apart from the soap and shampoo bottle. That would be a great look, he thought. Charge out with a cake of soap over one of his balls and a bottle of shampoo over the swinging dick?. _Ta da! Hello Jack!_

A door slammed somewhere outside.

"Just stop it!" Jack's voice was angry now.

"Stop what?" Ianto called out. "Look , I…er…need a hand in here." _Oh fuck it._ "I…I don't mean a hand, I mean I need some help."

"I didn't say that." By the close sound of his voice Jack was outside the shower now.

"Say what?" It was like some sort of bizarre movie, nothing was making sense, least of all this conversation. "Look, Jack…I mean, Captain Harkness"—keep it formal or as formal as he could, naked and no clothes within reach—"I don't know what you're playing at but I would be very grateful if you would pass my clothes in."

_And then go away._

"What clothes?"

Ianto gritted his teeth. "The clothes and towel you took from outside the shower."

This time he could hear the amusement in his voice. "So you're in there in your er...shall I say… in your natural glory?"

So he could crack a joke but Ianto was decidedly unimpressed.

"I am in here waiting for you to return my towel and clothes." Ianto folded his arms across his chest. is skin was drying rapidly in the cool breeze blowing through the half open slats of the Louvre window. He was not finding this situation the slightest bit amusing, as his boss seemed to be finding it.

"I'm sorry. I don't have them." Ianto couldn't figure out the tone of his voice.

There was another hurried whisper. "I didn't take them.'

"Who else is out there?" he folded his arms.

"No one."

 _Bullshit._ Another nervous skitter ran up his back. "Well, if you didn't take them can you please find them?"

A thought of pair his undies blowing about the lawn brought heat to his cheeks.

"They must have blown away. There's a nasty storm brewing. I'll go and look down in the yard." Receding footsteps, soft whispers and then silence. There _was_ someone else there with him.

When he'd looked at the Audi at the service station, Ianto hadn't noticed anyone else with him. But then, he admitted to himself, he'd been too busy perving on his butt to take much notice of anything else. He bit back a groan and reached up to squeeze some of the water from his hair while he waited.


	4. slamming doors

There was no sign of clothes or a towel on the veranda, or in the long grass at the back of the house. Not that Jack expected to find them there. He'd felt like an idiot trying to talk to someone who he really didn't believe was there, but Aunty Vi always said… Shit. Forget about that. He had thought he'd heard a laugh….and seen…something. Maybe it was just the wind and the moonlight.

His suspicions as to where the clothes had gone were crazy, so he wouldn't be sharing them with Ianto Jones. He'd think he was a total fruit cake if he shared that with him. He also wanted to know why the hell he was in Gray's cottage and how long he thought he was staying there. But the way things were shaping up, he suspected he'd be out of there at daylight. Or at least Jack hoped he would; but that created another problem. The town was always booked out from Christmas to mid-January so there's be no accommodation left.

How the hell had he ended up at the cottage? At the service station, he'd assumed he'd be heading to Boeshane Bay, or even the Gold Coast. This town was for retirees and surfers; nothing sophisticated to do here. And that was how he'd always found him. Sophisticated and distant. The casually dressed Mister Jones in the service station had rocked him.

Jack came back up the steps and looked around. The breeze had dropped and the air was still. The chill that had pervaded the veranda a moment ago had gone.

_Good._

"Look, I'm sorry I can't find them. The wind must have carried them further than I can see. I can get a torch and go looking further."

"No, thank you. Just go."

"Do you want me to go inside and get you another towel?" He stood outside the door.

"No." The retort was immediate and definite.

"So… a nudie run _?_ " The image that flashed though his mind made him want to hang around for the show.

"No!"

Jack bit back a grin; he wondered what he intended doing. A nudie run would be worth seeing. His staid black corporate suit had well disguised the lush curves the jeans and clinging T-shirt had accentuated.

He folded his arms and leaned back on the rail. "So how can I help?"

"Go away and I'll go inside after you've gone."

"No, I want to talk to you."

"Well, talk away."

His lips tilted. This little spitfire was very different to this quiet executive assistant from the office. A southward rush of blood had one part of him very interested.

"How about I go around to the other end of the veranda, and when you're dressed you can come out and we can talk?"

"How will I know you've gone?" His voice was wary.

"Because I'm a gentleman and I'm going now. I'll keep my back turned." He pushed away from the railing regretfully. "Promise."

"All right then. No peeking."

"No peeking." Sometimes being a man of his word had its disadvantages, but he wasn't a voyeur. Jack walked to the end of the veranda and looked across the road to the beach, keeping his back to the small outside bathroom.

The north-easterly wind had picked up and, as dark as it was, he could still see the white caps whipped up out to sea as the lightning flashed. The wind whistled through the trees lining the edge of the road and the first spits of rain landed at the edge of the veranda. He looked up; the clouds were low and scudding fast. If he stayed much longer, he was in for a soaking on the way home.

A door banged behind him and he turned around slowly.

He couldn't help the grin as he met the horrified gaze of one very naked man. One very beautiful naked man. Ianto was tugging on the handle of the back door at the other end of the veranda.

His wide-eyed stare met his as he dropped his hands to cover himself.

"Turn around," he squealed.

Being the gentleman he was— _damn it_ —Jack let the appreciative smile slide as he swung his gaze away.

"The door slammed shut in front of me just as I was about to run in." Indignation seemed to have overcome his embarrassment. His tone made it sounds as though he was holding him responsible.

From the brief glimpse of long, slender limbs and the verification that he was indeed as well-hung as he had thought, Jack wanted to reassure Ianto he certainly had nothing to be embarrassed about. But embarrassment didn't seem to be on the top of his list.

Without looking, he could feel the glare he was directing to him. He bit back a smile. Mister Jones was becoming more interesting by the minute.

"Who's here with you?" His voice was cross now. "Are they inside the cottage?"

"Nobody. I'm here by myself."

"Bullshit." The prim and proper executive assistant _had_ long gone. "I heard you talking to someone."

"Uh uh, must have been the wind. There's a fair storm brewing. Look"— Jack went to turn around and remembered just in time—"you scurry back into the shower, I'll unlock the door, cover my eyes and then you can get inside."

"All right," he said slowly.

"And then we'll talk about _why_ you're here."

Five minutes later, things had gone according to his plan. Jack had managed to get the door open; it hadn't been locked, just jammed shut. He'd dutifully turned his back again while Ianto scurried past. Now he stood at the door dressed in a pair of jeans and a singlet top, his wet curls plastered to the sides of his face. Jack's fingers itched to reach out and lift the wet strands from his skin, but he didn't think he would appreciate it. Ushering him inside, Ianto pointed to one of the chairs at the old kitchen table—Jack grinned, same wooden ones that had been there when he was a kid.

"Now explain." Ianto's voice was short and his cheeks were flushed. "Did you follow me here?"

He ignored the chair and shook his head. "Where from, London?"

Ianto let out an exasperated sigh. "No, the service station."

"Why would I do that?" Leaning instead against the old bench top, he folded his arms, watching with fascination as a single droplet of water landed on Ianto's shoulder and slowly ran down towards the neckline of his tight T-shirt. "You're the one with the explaining to do, not me. What are _you_ doing here?"

"What am I doing here?" Ianto's voice rose with each word. "I'm staying here for my Christmas break."

"No, you're not."

"And why would that be, Captain Harkness?" His voice was laced with saccharine-sweetness and Jack bit back a smile. If it hadn't been for the fact that he couldn't stay here, he would have quite enjoyed spending a few days getting to know this very different Mister Jones. This little kitten was showing his sharp claws that whispered of more of a Tiger and he waited for the reaction which was sure to come when he told him he definitely _wasn't_ staying here. He shrugged, putting on a casual air.

"It's my family's cottage and we don't rent it out. You're squatting."

"Squatting!"

"Yep, squatting. How did you get in?"

"With the key!"

"You're still squatting. You'll have to go."

"Be that as it may"—he turned around and picked up a scrunched piece of paper from the table—"this says that I can rent it…and I am. I'm not going anywhere. I don't care who owns it. I have a _receipt_."

Jack folded his arms and leaned against the wall ignoring the piece of paper he held out to him.

"No," he said.

Ianto took a step closer to Jack and eyeballed him. "Yes," he said.

Their eyes met and held; Jack ignored the little jolt that raced though him as he stared at the golden flecks in those stormy grey eyes. They tipped at the corners and were beautiful; he'd never noticed them behind the square, dark spectacles he wore in the office.

"You can't."

"I can."

Mexican standoff. Okay, how could he handle this without looking like a complete fool? Jack lifted his head as a fleeting shimmer of light flickered briefly. He stared at the wall with a frown and waited for a noise or…or something. _He_ wasn't used to this yet, so how the hell could he explain it to a stranger?

He shook his head with a frown. It must have been the lightning. If he wasn't careful, he'd end up as crazy as Gray's sister. Thinking quickly, he gathered together the most persuasive argument he could come up with.

"Look, Ianto. Is it okay if I call you that?" He pulled out the best grin he could. "I'm more used to calling you Mister Jones."

He nodded, hands on hips, chin thrust forward. "You may, Captain Harkness."

Despite Ianto's belligerent stance, the nod was cool and regal. So it was like that was it? He was a tough player in the office, and it looked like he was going to be as tough to deal with personally.

"I'm really sorry, but you can't stay here. There's been a mistake. This place has been in my family for years and it's in no fit state to be let out. Just take a look around." Jack ran his hand through his salt-encrusted hair. He'd slipped into town for beer and petrol after he'd been surfing and probably wasn't dressed in a way that would assist his position here as a sort of landlord. "You could get hurt and you could sue us. I don't know how you were able to rent it."

"It was in my staff email. 'Retro holiday cottage on north coast, available to TW staff only.' So I checked it out online, talked to the guy at the phone number given, paid in full by cheque and here I am." he narrowed his eyes as he held the receipt out to him. "To stay."

"What guy? What was his name?" Jack stared back at him. Ianto's cheeks were flushed.

"Grayson somebody."

_Bloody hell._

Jack shook his head slowly. "Look, I don't know how it's happened but there's been a mistake. There is no Grayson. You can't stay here. The place is falling down. Look around you. It's in no fit state for guests."

God knew what could happen here during the night. All he knew was, he wouldn't sleep here, and he wasn't about to let another man—albeit a very attractive man—sleep here alone. "I'll find you a motel room somewhere."

"No."

"I'll pay for it."

"No."

Jack should have known the tenacity that had got Ianto Jones to the position of executive assistant before he was thirty would make him dig his heels in.

Yes, he knew how old he was; despite the staff thinking he sat up in some ivory tower of his own, he knew everything there was to know about his rival's executive team.

As far as he knew Ianto was single; his personal life never intruded on his work at the office and he rarely attended office social functions. His mind ticked over as he stared back at him.

Ianto's shoulders straightened. he walked across to the door and held it open.

"Look, Jack. Is it okay if I call you that?" he parroted his words as he pulled the door open. This time it opened smoothly beneath his hands without the sign of a creak. Jack stepped through as he ushered him outside with a flick of his hand.

"I'm not a guest, I'm a paying tenant. I don't care about the state of the cottage and don't worry, I won't sue you. I've had a long drive, I'm tired and I want to go to bed." he stepped back and stared at him, obviously waiting for him to leave. "I have no idea why you are here too. However I do appreciate your concern. Thank you and good night."

Jack stood on the dark verandas and opened his mouth to speak.

"I'll see you in January," Ianto said.

The door closed in his face.


	5. getting into the swing of it

Jack looked down at the man staring at him. He knew very well how hard Ianto Jones worked, and he was just sorry that the chances of him having a restful Christmas in that cottage were slim. He stared down at his beautiful grey eyes as they locked with his. A man could drown in them. He'd not been immune to him at the office, but he had tried to ignore it. Even though Ianto was quiet and professional in his dealings with him, he'd often heard his laughter coming from the morning tea room as he'd chatted to the other staff. But he'd always kept a barrier up between them and it had rankled, even though avoiding office romances was a policy he'd stuck to religiously as he'd climbed the corporate pole. Too many issues in the business world were generated by office relationships after a fling. Friday night staff drinks were notorious for beginning relationships between staff that were committed elsewhere.

And it always happened at this time of the year; another reason to avoid the Christmas drinks that seemed to be on every night from the first of December until the big office party when there was inevitably a tale of woe. Staff turnover from the Christmas party fallout was a given every year.

_But not for him._

"Earth to Jack." Ianto's familiar voice washed over him. He ignored the little jolt that headed for his groin, but was thankful that he was wearing board shorts over his budgie smugglers. The budgie had already given a little chirp when Ianto's hand had touched his arm a moment ago.

"Sorry. You had me back in the office for a while there. And yes, I do know how hard you work." He wasn't going to mention someone being in his cottage—if he was prepared to put it down to a memory lapse, he wasn't going to discourage it. But he was going to do his damnedest to make sure it didn't happen again.

_If I had a fucking clue how to, that is._

"So seeing your boss is such a hard taskmaster, he needs to make sure you have a great holiday. How would you like to come for a surf with me in the morning?" Jack couldn't take his eyes off Ianto when his face broke into a wide smile. Ianto was drop dead _gorgeous_. And if he kept his eyes on his face, his gaze wasn't tempted to stray to the luscious curves packaged in those shorts.

"Oh, yes please! That'd be awesome. Do you have a spare board?"

"I do, but I'm pretty sure we'll find a lighter one to suit you in the shed at the back of your cottage. It shouldn't be locked. I'll come down and have a look this afternoon if that's okay?" He waited for him nod. After last night's antics, Jack wasn't going to go near the place and give Ianto any reason to doubt him. As far as he knew all his and Gray's boards had been there for years. He was the only one of all the cousins who ever came back to the coast. Except for his cousin Rose; she'd never moved away. The rest of them were scattered far and wide over the world in a variety of careers. One thing he could say about the Harkness; they were high achievers.

Except for Gray, but maybe he'd known what his life was going to hold for him. Jack gazed out over the ocean; Gray had never had a career goal. Surfing had been his life and it had caused his death before he was twenty. His ashes had been scattered to the wind on this very beach ten years ago. Guilt ran through him; he hadn't caught up with Rose for years. She'd been the older, crazy cousin as they'd grown up and run wild at their grandparents' beach cottages and Gray's death had tipped her into eccentricity. When he'd last seen her, he'd been shocked at how she'd aged.

Despite the sadness that came with being here, Jack had looked forward to coming home. This was the place he could be himself and not the corporate suit that he'd become. He had planned to use this week as a time to reconsider his future. His life was not what he wanted for himself, even if he was making a success of it. Maybe it was time for a change; a sea change. Even after two nights away from London peace was stealing through his bones. But he certainly didn't need the complication of anyone in that cottage and the problems it could bring. That person was now staring up at him with a strange expression on his face.

Ianto reached out again and touched his arm gently. "Jack?"

"Yes?" He gave his head a gentle shake. Ianto had a terrible effect on him; his thoughts were all over the place.

"Merry Christmas."

"Oh. I forgot. And to you too." A chuckle accompanied his words. "How about when I come over I'll bring a couple of beers and we can sit on your porch and watch the storm after we dig out a board for you?"

He'd had no intention of saying that and his words surprised him. At least if he was there, he could keep him safe. Not that he thought Ianto could really come to any harm. After all what could …

"Storm?" Ianto frowned at him and lifted his eyes to the clear blue sky.

"Guaranteed to be a storm later." Jack lifted his head and sniffed the pure air. "Can't you smell it?"

Ianto's pretty laugh trilled around him. "No, I can't, but I'll take your word for it. And yes, it would be nice to have some company."

Despite his laugh, Jack was surprised to see a tear drop from the tip of Ianto's long eyelashes. He reached out and used the pad of his thumb to wipe it from his cheek. "You okay?"

Ianto let out an un-gentlemanly sniff and wiped his hand over his eyes. "Sorry. First Christmas without my Mama. I thought I'd be okay, but I guess I'm not."

"Nothing to be sorry about. It's tough, isn't it? What about your mum?"

Ianto shook his head mutely.

Jack stared over Ianto's head to the ocean and let him gather himself together. "I lost both my parents in the same year. It's hard. Times like Christmas and birthdays really bring it home."

"Come on over later. When you're ready." A small smile tilted Ianto's lips. "I'll try not to be rude to you this afternoon.'

Jack picked up his board, and hitched it beneath his arm. He was reluctant to go back to the cottage; he was enjoying his company. "Okay, sounds like a plan; I'll see you later." As he turned away, Jack allowed himself one lingering glance at the lush curves in the white shorts.

_Yep, he's drop dead gorgeous._

Maybe his office rule could take a break too.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Ianto didn't spend much longer on the beach before the sun got too hot. With his fair skin, he'd end up looking like a lobster. It took a while to get immersed in his book; the sight of Jack walking away from him with the board beneath his arm, his strong muscles flexing, had set Ianto's heart in a little pitter patter, and it was hard to concentrate. Then he opened his Kindle and tried to focus on one of the murder mysteries he had downloaded. For a couple of hours he buried himself in an imaginary world, not giving any thought to Jack or the sorting out of Mama's stuff that waited for him back in London.

Eventually, the heat of the sun—not to mention the vicious scenes in the book —got too much and he packed up his bag and towel.

It _was_ becoming harder to reconcile the Jack of the surf with Captain Harkness of the office. Maybe it would help if he put a shirt on. Too much naked chest for Ianto's comfort.

_But what a gorgeous naked chest._

Ianto grinned as he headed back to the beach house. he paused as he opened the gate to the path that led to the front door. Someone had mowed the grass and cleaned up the garden while he'd been at the beach. The cottage looked prettier with smooth, green lawn surrounding it; more like the photo in the email. The edges had been trimmed and the long grass outside the fence was neatly clipped too. He closed the gate behind him and took two steps before he stopped dead and looked around slowly, his mouth dropping open.

His car was gone. Ianto spun on his heel and looked back to the road; no sign of it. He climbed the steps slowly and walked along the veranda to the door and his heart lodged in his throat. The door was wide open and the key he had locked it with was in his beach bag. He put his bag on the table outside the door and poked his head inside cautiously.

"Hello?" His voice was husky and he cleared his throat. "Jack? Are you inside?"

His eyes settled on the small dining table. His car keys were sitting exactly where he had left them last night. But a small vase filled with pretty summer flowers was in the middle of the table.

Ianto frowned and backed out through the doorway before walking to the far end of the veranda and peering around the back of the house. he let out the breath he had been holding. His little red sedan was parked behind the shed in the longer grass. Whoever had mowed had moved his car to the back. Folding his arms, he marched along the veranda and stepped back inside.

Thoughtful, but presumptuous.

"Is there anybody here?" His temper was growing by the minute. If Jack had wanted him to move his car so he could mow, all he'd had to do was ask. God, he knew he was on the beach; he could have waited till he came back. How dare he just walk in, pick up the keys and move his car as though he owned the place? Well, in a way, he did. The place belonged to his family, but Ianto was a tenant and he didn't feel at all comfortable with him having free access to where he was staying. He was tempted to march up and front him straight away, but he'd wait until he came down later.

Ianto picked up his Kindle, raided the fridge for a healthy snack and wandered back outside. He narrowed his eyes. In between the door and the shower halfway along the veranda, a small hammock chair hung from a hook. he walked up to it and gave it a gentle push as he looked around. he was sure that chair hadn't been there last night when he'd had his shower. he shrugged; it looked inviting, calico macramé knots held it together and colourful cushions invited him to sink in and curl his legs up.

Ianto backed into the hammock and sat cross-legged, testing the weight, before he leaned back against the soft cushions.

Okay, putting up a chair like this for him to chill in, maybe he could forgive him for coming by while he was at the beach. It _was_ thoughtful to mow the lawn and move his car so it didn't get chipped. Maybe Jack was just trying to make amends for being so insistent that se move to a motel.

Not a chance.

He could see himself spending the rest of the week rocking in this chair reading. Putting one foot against the wooden rail at the edge of the veranda, he pushed hard and the hammock rocked gently from side to side.

 _Bliss._ Just what he needed.

Ianto flipped open the Kindle and began to read.

He read until his eyelids began to droop, keen to keep reading as the story came to a searing climax. Finally he put his Kindle aside and snuggled into the cushions for an afternoon nap. The only problem with the hammock was it wouldn't swing unless you pushed it but Ianto was too comfy and he closed his eyes and let sleep overtake him.

_Creak, creak, creak._

The gentle swinging of the hammock chair soothed him as he surfaced from the delicious realms of sleep a while later. he stretched and rubbed his eyes as the chair rocked from side to side; he'd had the most explicit dream about Jack. A smile crossed his face; that's what he got for reading erotic yet violent novels. As he came fully awake, he stiffened. The chair was swinging from side to side as someone pushed it from behind.

_God, I dream about him and he turns up._

"Jack?"

No reply. The hammock swung away and he had to hang onto the side to avoid falling out.

"That's so not funny." Ianto waited until the swinging slowed and putting his feet to the ground, he slid out of the chair. he really wasn't appreciating his boss's sense of humour. Putting his hands on his hips, he opened his mouth and stepped to the back of the chair. Goose bumps pricked his arms and the hair on the back of his neck rose as a coldness swept along the veranda.

 _There was nobody there_.


	6. bloody doors

_There was nobody there_.

The chair was rocking by itself. Ianto closed his mouth and put his hand on the chair to stop it swinging. Deep in thought, he walked to the end of the small porch and looked up the road. There was no sign of anyone. The sky was clouding over but the air outside was still with the expectant hush before a storm.

There was no birdsong and only the sound of the gentle whoosh of the waves breaking on the sand reached him.

It must have been the wind.

_But there is none._

Maybe he'd done it himself as he'd been waking up?

Ianto turned as the silence was broken by the purr of a motor and Jack's silver Audi cruised past. He lifted his arm in a wave but kept driving to his house further up the road.

.

.

.

.

Jack narrowed his eyes as he waved to Ianto. The garden around the cottage had been cleaned up and the lawn mowed.

_Nice of him to do that._

He'd intended offering to do it tomorrow but Ianto'd obviously found the old push mower in the shed while he'd been in town getting some snacks; he had a few beers in the fridge. Luckily the service station where he'd run into him last night had opened for a few hours on the public holiday, and it had been deserted today. He drove into the small covered lean to. The sky to the southwest was black with tinges of green with the promise of hail. They were in for a beast of a storm this afternoon.

After taking a quick shower, he grabbed the six pack of beer he'd bought and sauntered down the road. Anticipation filled him at the prospect of spending some time with Ianto.

Maybe getting to know him a bit better.

He could hear the shower running on the veranda and he looked up as he crossed the newly mown grass. A red towel was hanging on the hook outside the door.

_Good. No funny business this afternoon. Keep it that way._

Jack put the beer on the table and walked down the stairs toward the back shed to see if their old boards were still in there. A grin crossed his face as Ianto's sweet voice followed him down the steps as he sang in the shower.

 _Shake your booty?_ The picture that came to his mind kept the grin on his face.

He'd never be able to look at Mister Jones across the boardroom table again without thinking of him in white shirts and shaking _his_ booty. The hard on was swift and not unexpected. Maybe he needed another cold shower. He'd turned the water down as cold as he could after he'd got back from the beach this morning but it hadn't damped down the desire that had heated his blood since last night.

Opening the door of the old shed, he pushed aside the cobwebs and poked around until he came across the old kneeboards in the rafters.

Still in their cloth bags and secured safely for ten years. _Good on you, Grey._

Jack lifted the dark green board down—that one had been his favourite when he'd been learning to surf—and carried it up to the veranda; it was waxed ready to go. Strange that the wax hadn't dried up; must have been a good brand. The singing had been replaced by a muttering and a strange rattling noise.

"Ianto? Are you okay?"

"No, I'm not. What the _fu_...what the heck are you playing at?"

He hurried along the veranda to the shower. The red towel was still hanging on the hook. "Are you still in the shower?"

"Of course I am. Now unlock the door and stop playing silly buggers."

Jack stood outside the shower and rolled his eyes. The bolt high on the outside of the shower door was drawn, effectively locking him in.

_How am I going to explain that?_

"Heh heh." The soft chuckle came from behind him and Jack whirled around but of course there was nobody there.

"Stop laughing and unlock the bloody door." Ianto was very unimpressed if the tone of his voice was any indication. He'd heard that exact tone when he'd been on the phone to the other floors each time the file was incomplete.

He reached and up and slid the bolt open. "It's unlocked now, but Ianto, I swear I didn't lock it."

"So who did?"

"It must have jiggled its way along when you were singing?"

Dead silence.

"Go away, until I get out of here." his voice was a bit softer. "Please, just go for a walk or something."

The door pushed open slowly and Jack took off back to the shed. He would do as instructed.

Ianto's turn to be the boss.

**.**

**.**

**.**

**.**

After he dried off in the bedroom, Ianto pulled on a clean pair of shorts and singlet top. His temper was simmering; he was fairly unimpressed with Jack's juvenile antics.

What was his problem? Nice to his face, and offering to take him for a surf?

Have a chat? Have a beer together? And then play stupid pranks on him?

So different to his serious boss from work. he shrugged before he ran a brush though his hair and gelled it into a little comb. Jack could come clean about the silly practical joke and they could laugh about it. All he wanted was honesty. Staring at himself in the mirror, he frowned. If he was honest, he had to admit that the sight of Jack was making him want more than that.

He stepped outside. Jack was at the far end of the porch watching the clouds swirl above the beach. The storm was building from the south and lightning lit the late afternoon sky. He turned as Ianto walked along the wooden floor, his bare feet silent on the timber.

Ianto stood in front of him with his arms folded. He could talk first and explain what he was up to. He smiled but didn't speak.

Ianto couldn't help himself. "So?"

The smile got wider and irritation buzzed through him.

"So what?" he said.

"So what's with the teenage boy pranks? And while I'm saying my piece, I thought you'd agreed last night to stay out of my cottage while I was here."

This time Jack frowned back at him. "What do you mean? I haven't been here today…not until now anyway. What pranks?"

"Like mow the lawn? And move my car?" Ianto leaned back against the veranda rail while he waited for him to answer, but all he got was a shake of his head. "And push my chair?"

His voice was softer now because he knew he couldn't have done that. He'd driven past a few seconds later.

He seemed to be thinking for a moment and Ianto narrowed his eyes waiting for his latest excuse.

"No. I've been in town."

"So who mowed the lawn?"

He shrugged. "My aunt organizes the upkeep of the place. The handyman must have come while we were at the beach."

"On Christmas Day?"

He shrugged. "This is the north coast, not the city."

Ianto's temper eased a little. "So you didn't move my car and leave the house door open?"

"No. I didn't and I wouldn't do that without checking with you." He smiled at him and the crinkles around his eyes made him look even sexier.

"Okay then…and you say the shower locked itself." Just as well he'd been here to get him out because there was no one else within calling distance and he would have been stuck in there. "I'll have to prop it open next time I have a shower."

"I can hang around if you want to lock it." Jack ran his hand through his hair and stared at him. Ianto's gaze dropped to his lips and a warm tremor ran though him as he remembered the dream he'd had about him. Followed instantly by heat flooding his cheeks.

He screwed his face up into a strange expression, opened his mouth, shook his head and then closed his mouth again. Ianto had never seen this confident man at a loss before.

Finally Jack ran his hand through his hair. "You _can't_ stay here. I'm not going to say anymore because I don't want you to think I'm bat shit crazy but..."

Ianto waited for him to finish but Jack held out his hand. "Come on. That beer's getting warm. We are going to have a Christmas drink and you can tell me a bit about yourself. Why you came up here for a holiday."

Ianto hesitated and then reached out and took his hand. Pleasant warmth tingled up his arm, and headed south as he led him to the outdoor table and pulled out the chair.

He popped the top of a beer and passed it to him and he tipped it to his mouth, appreciating the cold liquid. The beer soothed his parched throat but the effect of one drink zinged thought his whole body. He peeped from beneath half-closed lids as Jack lifted his bottle but he was looking at him. Jack's gaze travelled slowly over his bare shoulders, down to the smattering of hair on the bare chest. It had been a long time since anyone had looked at him like that and a small thrill ran through him. Ianto took another sip of beer; he needed to do something to ignore the rapid beat of his dick.

Ianto knew a flirtatious look; it might have been a long time between drinks but he could read his mind.

"Not quite the Hilton where the firm held the Christmas drinks." He smiled as he leaned back on the padded vinyl chair that was beneath the scarred wooden table. "I didn't see you there?"

A bolt of grief shot up from Ianto's chest and lodged in his throat. Ianto looked down at the table. The pre-Christmas function had been the same day as Mama's funeral. The girls couldn't understand why he wouldn't go, but he'd told no one about his Mama until he'd come back to work the day after the funeral. Finally he lifted his head. "I was at a …a funeral. I wasn't being anti-social."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Ianto lifted his head and Jack was looking curiously at him.

"You didn't miss much. A lot of silliness, too much drinking and some sore heads the next day."

"I heard how Ceryse got Mr Burns up on the dance floor.' he let out a little giggle.

"Apparently he can tango with the best of them." The lump in Ianto's throat eased as a sexy smile crossed Jack's face. "The rose she put between his teeth was a nice touch."

"She's a mad character. Lightens the place up, doesn't she?" She was a good friend to Ianto, but despite that, Ianto didn't share much personal stuff with any of his work friends.

"She is. I often wonder why people let their hair down at work functions."

Ianto shrugged. "I know what you mean. Everyone is formal and on their best behaviour all year, and one night in the festive season can bring it all undone." he smiled at Jack ruefully. "And there speaks the voice of experience."

It was at last year's Christmas party that he'd met Dai's wife. That had been the last social work do he'd been to.

"You too?" Sympathy filled his expression. "I learned very early that work and pleasure don't mix." This time his laugh was rueful. "About ten years back, in my first position as a field agent for MI4, I discovered too late that the lady who had me bailed up under the mistletoe was the Chairman's wife."

Ianto relaxed as his laugh bubbled up. "I didn't know you worked in the Field for MI4."

He laughed with him. "I didn't after that. She told him I'd approached her!"

A serious note crept into Ianto's voice. "I worked there for a while too. It was an office romance that brought me undone too."

Jack lifted his beer in the air. "Merry Christmas, Ianto. Here's to no office romances."

Ianto lifted his beer and clinked the glass against his, ignoring the pang of regret that lanced through him.

Jack reached down to a bag on the floor. "I almost forgot. I brought some dinner. Courtesy of the service station." He pulled out a tin of smoked oysters, and some crackers and cheese. "I was going to suggest maybe cooking some steaks on the barbie, but the weather's put a stop to that."

Ianto uncurled his legs from beneath his bottom and stood before disappearing into the kitchen. "I'll be back in a minute."

The smile that crossed Jack's face when he put the plum pudding and custard in the middle of the table made the wait in the supermarket car park well worth it.

_Thanks, Ethel._

"Merry Christmas to you too."


	7. soap?

Ianto sat back down and picked up his beer and watched as Jack traced his fingers over a scratch in the middle of the table. He leaned forward; JHJ was scratched into the wood. Junior?

"So you spent time here when you were growing up?" Ianto watched as his fingers moved across to another scratch. "Family house, you said?"

He looked up and held his eyes with his. "More than that. After my parents died I grew up here at my grandparents' house. The one up the road where I'm staying. This one was Aunty Vi's." He jerked his head to the side. "Lived there till I left for uni."

"You?" Ianto pointed to the other initials near his. "Sisters and brothers?

"No, just me and my cousins." He picked up the oysters and peeled back the lid. "Like siblings I guess. Two of them lived here and the other cousins who lived in Brisbane used to come and visit once a year. Christmas here was a busy and noisy time."

"Where are they all now?"

"Mostly scattered all over the world. And my grandparents passed on."

"I just lost my Mama." The words were out before he could think.

"So that's why you took some time off?"

He nodded mutely as the grief resurfaced.

"You should have taken longer." The kindness in his voice almost brought him undone and Ianto swallowed and hoped they could change the subject. "It was what? Three days?"

Jack's gaze was fixed on Ianto and he dropped his lashes and ran his finger around the rim of the bottle.

"Yeah, it was long enough. It's okay. But I might need the odd day to sort out the estate when we go back." Ianto sat back in his chair as Jack arranged the oysters next to the crackers and then passed the plate to him. "Thank you. And here I was thinking you were a city boy. Private school, old boys' network and all that."

He looked at Ianto quizzically over his beer.

"Shouldn't make assumptions, should I?" Ianto lifted his beer and closed his eyes as the cool liquid slid down his throat.

"What about you?"

"Guilty," Ianto said. "Private school, uni and Dad's old boys' network got me the job at the Firm."

"Everything you thought I was," he said with a quizzical look.

Ianto nodded guiltily.

A comfortable silence settled between them and they sat back watching the storm come in over the sea. Ianto glanced at Jack as he tipped his beer back and drank. He was wearing a shirt with the sleeves cut out. When he lifted his beer to his mouth, the muscles in his upper arm moved and Ianto couldn't help staring.

_For someone who spends all day in the office he looks pretty damn good._

A shaft of raw desire ran through him and Ianto forced himself to look away, but not before he caught his gaze. Sweat dampened Ianto's brow and the skinny tank top he'd changed into after his shower clung to his chest. He looked down dismayed to see his nipples hard beneath the shirt. Lifting his eyes, a hot wave ran through him; Jack's eyes were at the same spot. Ianto focused his attention on his lips. He'd never noticed how lush and kissable they were. Ianto averted his eyes as he let out a shaky breath. For a moment, he'd thought Jack was going to lean over and kiss him.

And it wouldn't have been unwelcome. Tension hovered in the air until Jack reached over and put his hand on top of Ianto's on the table.

"Ianto…" The moment was broken as a sudden wind roared in from the ocean, accompanied by a loud crack of thunder. The hammock chair began to rock back and forth creaking loudly, and the shower door blew shut and the bolt slid across. The tension dissipated in a moment. They looked at each other and smiled.

"See, these things happen." Jack stood and walked over to the shower and opened the lock. "All you need now is to find the person who mowed the lawn and I'm out of trouble." Those sexy lips opened in a wide grin and his white teeth flashed in the dimness that had descended as the black clouds raced in.

"I'll have to be more careful from now on." Ianto stood and walked across to the railing where he was leaning looking out to the storm. "I'm sorry. I do seem to be blaming you for everything that goes wrong."

A low chuckle reached Ianto and he turned around with a frown. "What was that?"

"What?" Jack looked around.

"That noise. Did you laugh?' The hair on Ianto's neck stood to attention again—as did his nipples. Not that they'd ever gone down. he rubbed his arms, making out he was cold, nothing to do with this sexual attraction that was consuming him. As he let his gaze move up past those bare arms to his sexy lips, Ianto wondered how the hell he'd ever work next to him without combusting into a haze of lust.

He was just too damned good looking.

"Are you scared here by yourself?" Jack leaned in closer to him and he got a whiff of surf, and sand, and sweaty man. he couldn't help taking a deep breath and inhaling the manly essence.

"No, why would you ask that?"

He shrugged. "It's pretty lonely out here. For a city guy."

"I'm fine. I'm enjoying the quiet." Ianto wasn't going to let him know how unsettled he was. It was only the storm that was bothering him. Not him or the spooky feeling that wouldn't go away. The old cottage took on a sinister air as more lightning flashed in from the sea.

"So are you still up for a surf in the morning?" Jack pointed to the board propped up against the wall. "I found my old kneeboard in the shed. It's all waxed and ready to go."

"Will the weather be okay?"

"Guaranteed. This is just a summer storm." Like the tumultuous feelings that were coursing through Ianto as the touch of Jack's hand warmed his skin. His body was reacting to him with surprising heat.

Ianto lifted his drink and drained the beer, welcoming the fizz that coursed through his blood. "For sure."

Another chuckle came from the dark and despite the heat of Jack's body beside his, goose bumps rose on his skin.

"What was that?"

"Just the wind. Don't be nervous." His arm went around Ianto and he squeezed his shoulder and Ianto put aside his jumpiness. Grow up _,_ he chastised himself. Jack was right; this was a very different place to his apartment in London where there were people around day and night. Ianto swallowed as he kept his arm there; he was flirting with him and he didn't mind one bit. They weren't at work now; it was a vacation. Maybe he could put his rules aside for a day or two.

"I hope the weather's okay for our surf tomorrow. I'm looking forward to it." Ianto shivered as the wind whipped around the veranda. "Do you want to come inside before this rain hits."

The cold breeze chilled his skin as Jack stepped away. "It's time I went home." He'd put a barrier up suddenly. And his expression was back to that of Jack the boss. Was Ianto giving out vibes he didn't like?

Ianto shrugged as he took a step back. Literally and emotionally. "What about the plum pudding?"

"Let's save it for after our surf tomorrow. You think I work you hard in the office, you ain't seen nothing yet. We'll get you working those waves." The distance had left his voice but he moved towards the steps.

"Thanks for the beer. Do you want to take the rest back with you?"

"Nah." He waved dismissively. "Put them in your fridge. New Year's Eve is coming up."

"So what time in the morning?" Ianto kept his voice casual not wanting him to see his disappointment.

"Sunrise too early? Meet me on the beach."

Ianto nodded and with a final wave, Jack disappeared into the darkness and emptiness surrounded Ianto

/

/

/

_Boxing Day_

Despite the unsettled feeling that wouldn't leave him as he sat on the lounge and read after a light dinner, Ianto slept well. Before he went to bed, he double checked the locks on the window and the doors, and left a light on in the kitchen. There was nothing he could do about the thin piece of lattice in the kitchen that shook in the wind. he still couldn't shake the feeling that someone was watching him, which he knew was stupid, because there was no one within cooee.

Apart from Jack.

But one minute, he'd been up close and personal and then he'd withdrawn into himself and left in a matter of minutes.

The alarm on Ianto's iPhone roused him at 4.30 a.m. and he stumbled into the kitchen, rubbing his eyes, and reached for the kettle. His hand froze on the tap as he looked up at the back door. _Unlocked and wide open._ And not only that, the surfboard that Jack had left outside on the veranda was lying along the sofa, the cotton draw string bag that had encased it, lay scrunched on the rose-covered mat.

Ianto backed away and looked around.

"What the fuck?" His hands shook as he shut the back door and flicked the lock over. He'd forget about the cup of tea; just get changed and head to the beach. Get out of this house. Forget about what Jack said about it not being safe, being in here was beginning to creep him out a little.

The first rosy glimmers of dawn were streaking the sky with a soft apricot when he stepped outside, the board tucked beneath his arm. A warm wind puffed in off the hills this morning and everything was washed clean from the storm last night. The wind must have blown the door opened, he reasoned to himself. And he must have carried the board inside when he was half-asleep and forgotten that he had. If he wasn't careful, he was going to have himself spooked and head home early, which he really didn't want to do. London would be cold and busy and he'd probably end up at work if he went home early.

Jack tried to tell you not to stay here, a little voice nagged within him.

.

..

He was waiting for Ianto on the beach, his strong, muscular lines silhouetted by the rising sun behind him. The wet sand was smooth and shining, clear of footprints, as Ianto followed him to the water's edge.

"Sleep okay?" His eyes were hooded.

"Like a baby." _Well, I did._

"Good. Surf's great. You ready?" Jack waited for Ianto to catch him up and they walked out into the water together until they were waist deep. They waited for a break in the waves. When the last wave of the set broke and passed them with the white frothy foam bubbling around them, Jack slid onto his board and lay on his stomach, and began to paddle out into the deeper water. Anticipation filled Ianto as he waited for the next wave to pass. The rough wax on the board crumbled beneath his fingers as he gripped the sides with both hands and slid onto the length of the board.

Before he could find his centre of balance, his bare stomach slid along the slippery board and he held on tight as the board slid away.

It was too late.

The board bucked beneath him as the oncoming wave lifted the front of it and Ianto slipped off. He wasn't quick enough and gasped, copping a mouthful of salt water as he went under the small wave that broke over him, and then carried the kneeboard into the shore.

It was a tossup whether embarrassment or temper won out, and he let his temper build. That was the final straw. What the hell was Jack playing at? Coughing and spluttering, he marched back through the shallows—as much as one could march in knee-deep water and stood at the edge of the sand, his arms folded as he waited for him to catch the next wave into shore.

 _Of course_ he did it gracefully, staying on the board until he was in knee-deep water.

"Are you okay? What happened?" He tossed his head back and his hair stuck to his neck. He reached up and brushed the long strands from his eyes.

Ianto glared up at him. "Just what is your problem? Do you really have to go to these extremes to get me to move out of your precious cottage? I suppose it was you who came back and left the door open last night when you brought the board inside, too?" His words ran together as rage filled his chest.

The water splashed around Jack's legs as he strode from the water. His mouth was tight and his eyes were flashing as he put his board down carefully on the sand and turned to Ianto.

"Would you like to tell me exactly how it's my fault that you fell off your board? I thought you said you could surf?"

Ianto let his temper burn ever hotter. He picked up the board and shoved it at him "When did you do that? In the middle of the night when I was asleep? You really do have a problem, don't you?"

Socialising and being pleasant to his boss was no longer an option after this prank.

How the hell he was going to take him seriously enough to work with from now on was something he'd worry about when he went back to London. "I need this break and I'm not going to let you, or anyone else ruin it for me!"

He turned away, intending to leave him there, but stopped when Jack reached out and held his arm. He held him firmly and took his board with his free hand. He saw the exact moment that he realised what he was upset about.

"Bloody hell," he said.

"Is that all you've got to say?" Ianto pulled his arm away and folded his arms. "Why on earth would you put soap on my board instead of wax?"

He put the board down on the ground and turned to him his other hand holding his shoulder lightly.

"I didn't." His eyes narrowed as he stared down at him. "And what was that you said about the door being open?"

"Don't worry about it. I'm going to go back, have a shower—and leave the door propped open while I have it—and have a peaceful day away from you." Ianto lifted his chin and held Jack's gaze with hers. "So, are you going to let me go?"

Damn him. No matter how angry he was, Ianto had to admit how he really was irresistible. In a suit he'd looked fine, but standing in front of him, sun drenched muscles, golden-chested and dripping with salt water, he was ridiculously handsome. Like some Greek god or something. Ianto couldn't bear to think how much better he'd look without anything on at all. He blinked as he tried to clear the picture and the stupid comparisons from his mind. What the heck was wrong with him?

His chuckle was husky as he looked down at Ianto. "I'm so sorry. I should have checked the board better." He reached up and tucked Ianto's curl of hair behind his ear. "I'm really sorry. I'll stay out and you can have my board. I'll go home and get some wax."

Ianto shook his head, bemused as Jack's eyes held his. His touch was sending trembles down his back. "So who soaped the board?"

Jack stared down at him, his expression unreadable. "My cousin used to do it for a lark. He was the world's biggest practical joker."

Ianto picked up the sadness in Jack's voice. "Was?" he asked quietly.

Jack lifted his gaze and pointed to the rocks on the point to the south. "Gray drowned on the point the day after his eighteenth birthday."


	8. a Rose by any other name is just as mad

Ianto's lips parted in sympathy as Jack told him about Gray. He'd not spoken of the tragedy for years and his voice caught as he told him of waiting on the beach that afternoon; waiting hopelessly for Gray to reappear after he'd slipped beneath the water. But he hadn't.

"Luckily I had my phone and I called the emergency line. The guys from the surf club were here on the jet ski within minutes." He shook his head and lifted his gaze to the horizon. "It took two days for his body to wash up. His sister, Rose found him. It was a pretty tough time for the family."

Ianto reached over and squeezed his hand. Jack curled his fingers around Ianto's and didn't let go.

They sat on the sand together as the sun climbed quickly in the morning sky. He didn't tell Ianto what was in his head, or a feeling within his heart; he had no proof and he didn't want to sound crazy.

"This is the first time I've had that board out since then, and he obviously had the last laugh. I suppose the soap dried up and as soon as it hit the water, it got slippery."

Last night he'd pulled back when Ianto'd mentioned going inside. He knew he was attracted to him and he'd run. It was all too complicated; being his boss and the crazy situation at the beach cottage that he still couldn't get a handle on.

The sun caught his beautiful stormy eyes as he turned to him. His confusion dissipated like the spray above the waves as Ianto steadily held his gaze. Instead of pulling away as he expected, Ianto reached up and cupped his jaw in his hand.

"Forget about the board. Falling off didn't hurt me. I'm sorry about your cousin. It must have been so hard for you."

Jack let go of his hand and put his arm around his shoulders. He didn't want him to move away. Ianto's bare thigh was pressed up against his and what he wanted was only a breath away. He dipped his head, closed his eyes and lowered his mouth to his.

Maybe it was a kiss returned because he felt sorry for him—maybe not. All he knew was that his lips were sweet beneath his and he explored his mouth gently. Ianto sighed his name and his breath whispered against his lips. Ianto reached up and his fingers tangled in his wet hair as he pulled him closer. There was more than sympathy in his response. He groaned against Ianto's mouth and pushed him gently back on the sand.

By the time Jack had kissed his lips, his face, and then slowly slid his lips down his neck to that sweet spot he had noticed in the shadow of his collarbone, Ianto was arching against him. Jack lowered his hand to slip it inside his top to brush the fuzzy pecks and pinched a nipple gently, smiling as he murmured with pleasure against his neck. Jack lifted his head and looked down at him, Ianto's eyes were wide; he looked more alive than he had ever seen him. Passion filled his eyes and a slow smile tilted those lips that had been against his neck a few seconds ago. Ianto let him slide the t-shirt off. He leaned on one elbow as he circled Ianto's nipple with soft, lazy strokes before he bent and took it into his mouth. Ianto's skin was salty as he licked and sucked each nipple. Ianto's fingers drifted down his back and pulled at the waist of his board shorts and rational thought fled as his cock hardened.

The sharp bark of a dog brought him to his senses and he pulled back. He rolled over and sat up and looped his hands around his knees. Luckily the dog had run ahead and the couple walking along the beach was still a couple of hundred metres away. Ianto sat up and brushed the sand from his shoulders.

He stared out to sea, breathing deeply as the couple walked along the beach towards them.

Not a word was spoken.

Ianto folded his arms across his chest. His heart was beating at the rate of knots and he flicked a glance at Jack. He was staring out to sea; his jaw hard. His gaze steely. So many sensations ran through Ianto; it was more than the physical. Somehow he knew that they had connected on a deeper level than sheer physical need. If it hadn't been for the dog barking, Jack would have been inside him by now. He craved his touch and shivered as Jack shifted his position and put more distance between them.

The dog bounded up to them, a huge black thing with floppy ears and loose jowls. Ianto laughed as it nuzzled into his neck, the same place that Jack's lips had been only minutes before. Ianto jumped to his feet as the dog played around them, and he knew the exact second that Jack turned to look at him, even though he wasn't watching him. He felt Jack's eyes on him like a brand. It was crazy but he did. The couple whistled to their dog and waved to Jack and Ianto as they walked away.

"Do you want to go back in the surf on my board or go back to the cottage?"

Ianto tried to read what was in his voice and subdue the restlessness that was in him. It was hard to quell, that deep ache low in his dick and it made it hard to think logically. He tried to lighten the mood. "How about some plum pudding for breakfast? It is Boxing Day."

Jack's smile was distant and the warm feeling in Ianto shrivelled. Jack had started it and Ianto had made a fool of himself. Jack stood and together they picked up their boards and headed back toward the cottages.

Ianto's heart was still thudding in slow, heavy beats and the blood was zinging around his body. His nerve endings were skittering all over the place as confusion filled him. But when they reached the road, Jack turned to face him.

"Sorry the surfing was such a fiasco. We'll try again another morning, okay?" Jack hitched the board up higher and nodded at him. "Have a good day; I have to go to the Bay. Anything you need?"

Ianto shook his head. "No, thank you."

He watched Jack as he walked away, before he turned and went back to his place. This holiday was not working out how he'd planned. It was time to forget about Jack, and start to relax and have the rest he'd planned. It had been a long time since he'd made out on a beach, but the frustration that filled him had more to do with Jack's hot and cold moods than any unfulfilled sexual needs.

.

.

.

.

The day passed slowly. No matter how much Ianto tried to push him from his mind, Jack wouldn't leave his thoughts. he'd come here for the quiet and today, he got it—in bucket loads. He read and dozed and took himself off for a long walk down to the beach after lunch. Burned off the chocolate, the strawberry milk and the beer. The cottage up the road stayed quiet and empty and there was no sign of Jack's silver car.

When Ianto came back from his walk, he settled gingerly in the hammock chair with a cold drink and his Kindle. he looked around nervously as he plumped up the cushions. No wind this afternoon. he pushed his foot onto the floor and rocked the chair gently as he began to read.

"Who the hell are you?"

Ianto dropped his Kindle with a start and slid out of the hammock as a woman clumped up the wooden steps. She strode along the veranda towards him, arms swinging wildly by her sides. It was hard to pick her age; her skin was a pale and her face was set in a ferocious glare. Her blonde hair was looped up in some sort of old fashioned beehive bun and she wore a pair of men's board shorts and a bikini top and her feet were bare and encrusted with dirt. One hand pointed at Ianto, in the other was a small garden spade which she was now waving around.

Before Ianto could reply, he was hit with another spray of angry words. "What the hell are you doing in my family's house?"

Ianto straightened and took a step back as the garden spade came perilously close to his head. The woman's fiery eyes were fixed intently on him.

"I'm Ianto Jones and I'm renting this house for the Christmas break."

"Says who?" The woman stepped closer.

"Says me. And I believe you are trespassing." Ianto lifted his chin as anger replaced fear. "Unless you can be civil, perhaps you should leave."

"No. I've come to weed the garden." She took a step back and pointed to the overgrown garden bed along the front fence.

Ianto's eyes narrowed. "Was it you who mowed the lawn yesterday."

"Yes, and I suppose it was your car that was in the way." Even though her face was unfriendly the woman had lowered her voice. "I washed my feet before I moved it."

Well at least that let Jack off the hook. He _had_ been telling him the truth all along.

"Was it you who left me the flowers? On the kitchen table?"

"No. I didn't leave them for you. They were for my … Jax."

"Your … Cousin?"

"Yes, Jackson. I guess he was the one who organized the rental. I'm sorry for intruding. I'll leave the garden till you move out. How long are you here?"

"Another three days."

"Okay. Sorry to bother you, Ianto. I'm Rose." She gave a shrill laugh as she went back down the steps and opened the gate. "They call me a Mad Wolf but don't believe a word they say."

Ianto watched as Rose strode along the road until she disappeared around the corner. This was the strangest vacation he had ever taken.

Maybe Vanuatu would have been more peaceful.

Although there'd be no Jack there.

.

.

.

.

Ianto showered early and dressed with care, blow-drying his hair into his usual crow's comb wondering if—hoping— Jack might come over for another sunset chat. He peered into the oval, cracked mirror above the small vanity in the outside toilet. His skin had a healthy glow and the dark circles beneath his eyes had faded. Despite the unexpected and interesting events over the past couple of days, he was finally managing to relax.

The evening was cool; not a breath of wind disturbed the air tonight. Ianto sat on the steps of the veranda and enjoyed the peaceful setting as the sun set over the oaks. Just swimming togs and a towel around his waist as he enjoyed the balmy heat.

A rain bird called mournfully from the bush and then all was quiet. Jack's house was in darkness and he thought back to the interlude on the beach this morning. They'd both made a mistake, not giving any thought to the conversation when they'd both agreed that work flings were definitely a no go zone. Hopefully, they'd both put it behind them and forget about the kiss at the beach when they were back in the office.

Gradually the dark crept in and Ianto stood slowly, ignoring the regret that filled him. A soft southerly wind puffed in off the ocean and his towel wound around his legs as the breeze lifted it.

He shook his head. Sheer pleasure had filled him when Jack had put his lips on his and he wasn't going to regret one second of it. For the first time in many months he felt alive and if Jack was happy to spend some time with him, he'd welcome him into his life. They were two grownups and surely they could handle some time together out of work. The way Jack had kissed him—and touched him this morning, he knew he was interested. If it hadn't been for that dog… It _was_ lonely here by himself and he would enjoy his company again.

Opening the fridge, he carried some salad makings inside and sat at the table listening for his car. But nothing. Finally he changed into his PJs and climbed into bed. He hadn't even heard his car come back when he fell asleep just before midnight. The only sound was the soft sighing of the waves as they washed up on the beach through the trees.

When Ianto woke with a start it was pitch dark. He lay there for a moment listening and wondering what had woken him. He shivered; there was a chill in the room. Goose bumps rose on his bare skin and the hair on the back of his neck lifted.

His mouth dried as the other side of the bed dipped and he rolled toward the centre of the bed. He tensed as a hand crept onto his hip.

"Jack?" His throat was dry and the words came out raspy and sleepy.

"Heh heh." The same soft chuckle he had heard on the veranda turned his blood to ice.

Pulling all his courage together, he swallowed and reached over. Taking a deep breath and trying to stay calm he placed his hand on the warm fingers that still rested lightly against her hip.

"Who are you?" he pulled the shaky words from that nervous place in his chest at the same time he pushed his fingernails into the hand now holding him firmly. The man chuckled again and the bed dipped again as he rolled away. Ianto rolled over in one fluid movement and was on his feet, reaching for the light before he could even draw a breath. He clicked the switch, bathing the room in bright white light, and he looked around for something to use as a weapon.

There was no one in the room with her and the door was still shut.

Drawing in a shaky breath, he walked around to the other side of the bed and bent down, looking underneath.

 _Nobody. Nothing._ The only thing in the room was a chill that raised the goose bumps on his arms. Ianto grabbed a blanket off the bed and backed into the chair in the corner, his eyes fixed on the door in front of him.

.

.

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Jack came in late, his thoughts churning. Kissing Ianto at the beach had been a stupid thing to do; it had been Ianto's sympathy and wide eyes that had weakened him to his charms. God, if it hadn't been for that slobbery dog he probably would have ripped his togs off and made love to him on the sand. His hard and fast rule of non-involvement at work would have been broken irrevocably because he knew once he had a taste of making love to Ianto, there was no way he'd be able to hold back. He had to work with him and he was not going to get involved with someone at the office.

Mr WWII he would stay. He knew the nickname the girls had given him and it suited him just fine. But the feel of Ianto's fuzzy chest in his hands and the taste of his salty skin on his lips had stayed with him all day. Not trusting himself to keep his hands off him, he'd gone for a long drive, telling himself he was simply checking out the surf up the coast.

A stupid move; he'd got caught in the Boxing Day traffic and had been held up on the highway till well after dark. The other cottage was in darkness and he guessed Ianto was asleep when he finally drove past, resisting the temptation to call in and check on him.

Three more days; he'd keep his distance and when they were back in London, nothing would be changed and there'd be no messy holiday romance to get over.

That's what his head told him anyway; his heart was saying something different as the blood hammered though his body. He'd had a hard on for most of the week.

Another cold shower was in order.

After he parked the car, he pushed open his own front door in disgust and threw the keys onto the table. He went to bed and tossed and turned until a restless sleep over took him.


	9. forcing the issue

_December 27_

In the early dawn, the southerly wind strengthened and the bathroom door clicked on and off its latch until Jack couldn't put up with it any longer. He yawned and sat on the edge of the bed rubbing his eyes.

"Tired, Cuz?"

The familiar voice hit Jack in the gut. He dropped his hands and slowly lifted his head. Gray was lounging back in the chair beside the bed, smiling at him, his tanned face crinkled around the eyes so like his own.

 _Fuck._ Jack rubbed his eyes again.

His cousin, his _dead_ cousin, sat in the chair dressed in his familiar faded denims and favourite Metallica T-shirt. They'd gone to that concert in Paris for his eighteenth birthday. Gray took a bite from the apple he was holding. The sweet smell of the juice drifted over to Jack along with the loud crunch.

"Jax don't stress. It's cool." _Crunch,_ as he bit the apple again.

"Gray?" Jack's voice was a ragged whisper. "Shit, I'm dreaming, aren't I?"

"Nup, no dream. It's me, man."

The familiar grin tore at Jack's chest and he took a deep breath. "Really?"

The cheeky nod he knew so well confirmed it.

"Yeah. I've been keeping an eye out for you and you're sure stuffing things up."

"What? Where?"

"Are you really happy being a suit, Jax?" Gray stood and walked around the table and pegged the apple core into the bin.

 _Do ghosts eat apples? Or am I dreaming?_ Jack stood and resisted pinching, himself. He looked down at the bed. He wasn't lying there asleep. He was awake and talking to his dead cousin. "Shit, Gray. Why did you have to go and drown? Do you know how much I missed you?"

"It was my time, Jax. But I had to come back and sort you out before I can move on. Couldn't let you stuff up too."

"What happened?"

Gray's face split into a wide grin. "Caught the best wave of my life man. A six foot left hander on the point. Perfect tube, but I didn't pull out in time."

Jack shook his head, still unable to believe what he was seeing and hearing.

"So enough about me. I'm fine. I'm here to give you a bit of advice."

Jack stared at his cousin. "Advice?" He cleared his throat and the words rasped out.

"Jax don't let him go. Don't let that stupid career, and figures and money drive your life. Ianto's the one for you, mate. I used Rose's email to set up the rental. That was interesting." He walked to the window and turned back to Jack. "I've done my best to throw you together, but it's up to you now. You have to decide what _you_ want."

Jack knew what he wanted and it had nothing to do with suits and the trading floor. Gray smiled at him as he read his expression; he knew him well and always had.

"Good." Gray turned back to Jack. "Want to go for a surf later? I'll be out there with you if you go."

Jack's throat ached and he blinked as a sheen of moisture misted his eyes. "I wish."

"Look out for Rose, mate. Tell her I'm okay. She's still doin' it tough too."

Gray walked over and grabbed him in a tight man hug. "Have a good life, Jax."

Gradually the pressure of his arms lessened and Jack opened his eyes. The room was empty and he looked around.

"What the fuck?" he muttered as he flopped onto the bed and put his hands over his eyes. He leaned back onto the soft pillow and closed his eyes as the wind rattled around the house.

A persistent banging at the door woke him a couple of hours later. he dream of Gray had been so real; he still carried the same sense of loss in his chest that he'd experienced when Gray had left him.

 _Maudlin._ That's what he was. Dreaming of the past. Time to go back to the city and his real life. Jack rolled out of bed and had the door open before he was properly awake. Ianto stood there, his face pale and dark shadows beneath his eyes.

"Hi, come on in."

Ianto stepped past him without speaking and stood there looking at him, before he brushed a shaky hand over his face. he was dressed in a cute pair of pyjamas and Jack raised his eyebrows.

"You are going to think I am so crazy, but this really strange thing happened to me last night." His voice was soft and his eyes wide as she stared up at him

"You're not Robinson Crusoe." Calm settled over Jack as he looked him.

Gray—or his dream—whatever it had been, had given him a choice. He put his hands on Ianto's shoulders, surprised to feel him trembling. "So shush, and listen to me. I'm sorry I was such a prick yesterday and took off and left but you scare me."

"Scared? Tell me about it." Jack said softly "What's wrong?"

Ianto's skin was silky against his fingertips as he ran them down his arms. "I was frightened last night, too."

Jack groaned and he narrowed his eyes. "Don't tell me you had a dream too?"

"No, I had a flesh and blood visitor. I thought it was you, until he chuckled. And then he disappeared." Ianto's eyes were wide. "I was so scared I spent the rest of the night sitting up in a chair. I don't know what it was but there was definitely someone in the house."

"Just give me a moment." Jack crossed to the kitchen and lifted the top of the bin. He shook his head as disbelief ran through him; a fresh apple core lying at the bottom of the plastic-lined bin. Maybe he'd put it there without remembering? He turned back to Ianto and took his arm gently before leading him over to the bed.

"You do look tired. Do you want to go back to bed? Get some sleep?" He grinned at Ianto as his eyes locked with Jack's. Enough of the stuffed shirt businessman. Jack, the wild surfer without any worries, had come roaring back.

_Thank you, cuz._

From now on, the risks he took would have nothing to do with trades and shares. He sat on the edge of the bed and held his arms out and could have sworn he heard a chuckle as Ianto sat on his knee.

"Shut the door on the way out, Gray," he said quietly.

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only one more chap to go folks xxx


	10. done

Sure that Jack would hear the thudding of his heart Ianto leaned into Jack as his arms went around Ianto's waist.

"Back to bed? Here?" His voice was tentative. "You're not going to go all cold on me again?"

A warm feeling suffused him as a rumble of laughter vibrated against his chest.

"No, trust me. I had a very good lesson through the night."

he frowned as he glanced over to the bin. "Mr WWII's gone for good this time."

This time the heat was from embarrassment and Ianto pulled back and stared at him. "How did you know that's what they call you at work?"

Jack laughed again. "I wondered if you knew that the walls between my office and the staff room are very thin." He bent his knee and waggled his foot in the air in front of them. "That Ceryse has some interesting theories."

Ianto stared at him, the heat in his face warring for supremacy with the heat that was building in southern parts. "You hear everything?"

"Everything." His lips zoomed in on his warm neck and Ianto's breath caught in his throat.

Choking out a strangled laugh, he shivered as Jack's fingers slid down and held the bottom of his pajama top. "Oh my God, how embarrassing!"

"But you, Mister Jones, are always most circumspect in your conversations with your work friends." He tipped his head to the side with raised eyebrows and Ianto nodded. Ianto closed his eyes as the soft cotton brushed his face when Jack lifted the top over his head.

"Are you sure?" Jack's breath blew on Ianto's nipples as he lowered his head and they hardened instantly. Confidence surged through Ianto and he gave him a wicked smile.

"I guess I won't be sure Mr WWII has really gone unless you share some body heat with me. Mister Stuffy might still be there"

Sizzling heat ran through Ianto as Jack's fingers slipped beneath the elastic waist of his pajama bottoms. His hand lingered there and he lowered his head, flicking his tongue lightly across his lips. Ianto parted them and welcomed him, giving in to the anticipation that filled him as Jack's fingers brushed gently across his stomach.

"Jack," he moaned against his mouth, urging him on as Ianto pressed into his hands and lifted off his lap so he could reach the place what was throbbing with need.

Ianto wriggled as Jack hooked his thumbs in Ianto's pajamas and pulled them down over his thighs. A bit of lifting and manoeuvring and they flew through the air.

At the same time, Ianto's fingers were on the top of his boxers, pulling and yanking and then he took Jack in his hand, wrapping his warm silky length in his fingers.

Ianto couldn't help the small giggle that escaped. He lifted his head.

"What?"

"Nothing." Ianto shook his head. "Just testing out a theory or two."

"And?"

Again a little giggle. "You do have big…feet."

"I aim to please." Jack lifted him off his lap and laid him on the bed. He stood and ferreted around on the floor and picked up his jeans. Ianto lay there admiring the play of the muscles in his thighs as he bent down. His butt was as firm and muscled as the rest of him.

Ianto closed his eyes. God, was this a dream too? If it was he was going to enjoy every moment of it. A snap of foil and he was back beside him, the warmth of his skin against his body heating him from shoulder to toe.

Unfamiliar emotion flooded Ianto. This time he was ready for it. Jack propped himself over him, his hands on either side of his waist. Ianto pressed his palms flat against his chest, revelling in the warmth of Jack's skin as he smiled down at him, his eyes hooded with desire. A surge of power ran through Ianto as the heat of his cock nudged against his.

"Definitely not a stuffy old Mr WWII," Ianto murmured. He opened his legs wider but Jack teased with little brushes against him, pushing in a little way and then pulling back.

"Jack, I can't take much more of that. Please, now."

Ianto's breath caught as he slid in deeply in one thrust and filled him. Ianto's muscles clenched involuntarily and a quiver rocked him as an orgasm built. Jack's thigh muscles hardened against Ianto's legs as he bucked against him and gave into the exquisite pleasure that burst through him.

Jack knew he'd remember the little sounds coming from Ianto's lips as he came for the rest of his life. He cupped his hips, loving the feel of his soft butt against his fingers. He wanted to bury himself in him and feel his muscles clenching around him but the need for his own release blurred his mind. Ianto raised himself, moving with him, thrust for thrust. Jack held his breath as he lost hold of everything except Ianto.

Barely able to breathe, ecstasy consumed Jack as he pumped into Ianto who arched against him and Jack smiled as Ianto's muscles closed around him for a second time, sending him to the brink.

He slowed his movements as Ianto met his gaze with a sinful grin. His low moan reached Jack from afar as Ianto wound his legs around Jack's back. He held Ianto's gaze as he came, finally easing himself down onto him, both of their bodies slick with sweat.

"Fun enough now?" Jack murmured against his neck. He kissed Ianto's shoulder and traced his lips to the nape of his neck.

"Not a stuffy old WWII to be seen," Ianto said with a sexy giggle.

He fell asleep with Ianto's legs wrapped around his, holding him close.

**.**

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_New Year's Day_

Rested and relaxed, Jack and Ianto packed his Audi ready for the trip back to the airport together later that afternoon. For some reason, Ianto's car was stone dead and he knew Jack suspected that a well meaning—but ghostly—hand had been at work.

He had insisted that they needed to have a midday nap to prepare for the trip ahead, but of course very little sleep had taken place. Ianto shook his head and but Jack's eyes remained closed as his chest rose and fell gently.

If anyone had told him the events that would pass when he came for his solitary holiday at the beach, he would have told them they had had a touch of sun, or perhaps too much Christmas cheer. But Jack's explanation had been heartfelt, and had supported the things that had happened to him over the past few days; Ianto wondered whether a ghostly influence really had been at work bringing them together.

Or was it simply that their deepest desires had culminated in dreams that had guided their choices.

Ianto would never forget that night of terror sitting up in the chair when something had frightened him out of the cottage and into Jack's arms. He moved to lie back on his pillow but his hand was held and pressed against a tanned and golden-haired chest. Ianto sighed and smiled into the wicked eyes that were holding his. A warm, smooth leg rubbed against his thigh and before he knew it, Jack had grabbed him and flipped him up onto his chest. His erection was hard and throbbing against Ianto's stomach, and he gave into the exquisite sensation that ran through him whenever Jack touched him.

Anywhere, anytime—even a touch on his back as he walked behind him sent shimmers of desire running straight to his cock. He let out a little giggle.

"What's so funny?" Jack's fingers were doing wicked things to Ianto's composure as they moved down him back until they cupped his bottom. Ianto rolled over and lay on top of him and his fingers continued to work their magic.

He smiled at him and kept his tone saucy. "I was just thinking about the size of your feet and whether I should tell Ceryse about her theory."

"Don't you dare." His voice was husky as he moved his lips down the side of Ianto's neck.

"I'll be able to tell the girls that I have tested the theory and that Mr WWII has a new nickname. Mr Hot Stuff, maybe?" Ianto giggled at the look on Jack's face as he pulled him down to his chest.

"Oh, I don't think so, Mister Jones. I think you'll be doing exactly what your boss says."

And Ianto did for the next hour or two.

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"I've got a proposition for you," Jack said later that afternoon.

Ianto threw him a laughing glance. "We don't have time."

"I'm serious." He walked across to Ianto.

Ianto tilted his head to the side. Jack's face was closed and he looked more like Jack the boss. Zipping up his toiletries bag, Ianto put it on the bed and walked across to him. Ianto slipped his arms around Jack's waist, revelling in his new found ease with this man.

"Tell me."

"How much do you like living in London?"

"I don't. I'd be out of there like a shot if I could get a decent job out of the city."

"How would you like to be my executive assistant in another office? Out of the city?"

Hope flowed though him as he stared up at him. Time to act coy? "Where?"

"How about Cardiff? We can do what we do from anywhere, you know."

"And surf on our days off?"

"We can fly here on our holidays for … surfing" A slow grin crossed his face as he looked up at Ianto and saw his expression. "Amongst other physical activities."

In the end they decided to leave Ianto's car there; the hire place could pick it up. Jack's Audi was packed with their bags, and both surfboards were secured to the roof racks.

Jack locked the front door of the cottage and walked slowly along the veranda. Ianto waited for him in the car and Jack smiled as Ianto caught his eye.

"Hurry up. It's hot in the car." Ianto waved a hand in front of his face in an exaggerated movement. "Come on and get those big feet walking over here, boss."

Jack smiled back at him. "Whatever you say, Mister Jones."

Jack had no doubt that in some way, Gray—whether it had been a dream or not—had shown him the way to where his future and true happiness lay.

With Ianto. At the beach.

He slipped into the driver's seat and started the car. Slowly he drove down the driveway and glanced in the rear view mirror, back at the cottage where he had spent many happy years, and where he was going to make a life with Ianto. He touched his hand and gestured back behind them.

Though the haze of the late afternoon, Gray leaned against the fence, his surfboard beneath his arm. Lazily, he lifted his arm and waved before he turned and walked across the sandy road to the beach, disappearing into the sea mist that hadn't been there a moment before.

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End


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